Broken dreams
by because-it-was-real
Summary: Victor saved the unknown individual, but he turned out to be a threat. This time, left dealing with feelings of guilt and conflict, he won't be alone. Frankenwolf.


**A/N: **I own nothing of this wonderful universe, all credits go to the writers of Once Upon a Time and Mary Shelley, who originally creates this lovely character.

**Broken dreams **

He sat down and let his head slid against the white wall, trying to calm himself down. He knew they were looking for him, but he didn't care anymore. No, that wasn't true. He did care, but he refused himself the sentiment. He had cared before, and nothing good ever came from it.

He couldn't believe how stupid he had been; how he had made the exact same mistake again, over and over like a never-ending clock spinning in circles. This guy, whoever he may have been, should have been left to die. He should have known well enough to let his own weak human heart give up on him. But of course he didn't, in the end. He intervened, and now all hell had broken loose. They say he did the right thing - no, they hadn't said anything, they didn't talk to monsters. Ruby had told him it was the right thing. She had encouraged him. Not that it was her fault. She couldn't have known you shouldn't dabble with life. It should be left alone to its own devices. People were hurting, dying, and once again it was his fault, and his fault alone.

He was simply too weak to give up his dream. He wanted his name to stand for life, he wanted to give it, restore it. He had wanted to gift it to people who deserved it more than anyone, and even that he had failed this time. When - when he brought back Gerhardt, at least he had still thought he was a good person. He hadn't known how it would change him (or hadn't he wanted to know?), and he brought him back because he knew a brother full of love. The only one in the world who had any love to spare for him. He bowed him head down and grabbed for the small flask of whiskey he kept in his desk. This time he hadn't even known if the man was worth half a dollar, and of course, he turned out to be worth even less. Fate was never so kind to him.

A soft knocking on his door. He didn't answer. He wasn't in the mood.  
>"Dr Whale, I know you're in here, please open the door." The voice was clear and forceful enough. Ruby. He was tempted - but no. He was not made for friendship - and if he ever was, he lost all rights to it. He had messed up time after time; she gained only the chance of getting hurt somewhere in the process, as everyone had done. He was alone, and he had always been glad to be so, even before. Why did he feel so lonely?<br>"Victor!" Her voice began to develop an urgent tone. He didn't move. He didn't, he couldn't. He had seen the looks of her grandmother every time he had approached her during the last few weeks, even if it was just to say hi. The look of contempt on her face was one he saw during the long hours he was lying awake. Her face, along with other's judging countenances. David's, his brother's, his father's and even his mother's, her face painted in a way he had never seen it be in life. She had never looked at him like that, yet it haunted him. Her disappointment at what he had done. His father's cold body on the floor. He remembered the moment very well. He had not felt remorse. He had not stopped his brother. Only later he had realised that - no. It had felt good to be in power, just for once. It was wrong, as his conscience whispered to him, but sometimes he couldn't bring himself to regret his father's death. The only thing he felt true remorse about was his brother. His brother was the one who had done it, physically, even though he was the guilty one. Yet he knew Gerhardt would never take that. He would repent, and he wasn't there. He should have ended him when he had the chance. It hurt every time he thought about his brother, alone and pestered by the same ghosts which haunted him at night. But he simply hadn't been able to see him die again. The only person he had left. And now both of them would pay for his mindless selfishness.  
>"Open the door, Victor!" She was trashing her fists against it now. He closed his eyes. "I understand how you feel, alright? Monster to monster, remember? This is not your fault. Not this time, not in any way. Whatever you may think, you did the right thing. You saved his life, as is your job. This is not the same."<br>"If it weren't for me, he would have died. Everyone would be safe. I let another monster into the world," he said. He tried to control his voice, but he felt his hands shaking aa he took another sip of alcohol. "It is my fault. Perhaps not completely, but I'm not blameless."  
>"You are. This time you are," said the voice on the other side of the door. He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Please open up," she said, much more softly than before. The knocking had stopped.<br>He pulled himself up and turned the lock. He longed for her presence, her touch, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting her in any longer. The door opened quickly, as if she was afraid he would change his mind, and before he knew what was happening he felt two solid arms around him, her chin on his shoulder. She didn't speak, and neither did he. Both of them knew it was no use to argue; neither would change their mind, yet there was an understanding. She embraced him, and he allowed her to. He didn't cry. He was past that. He let himself sink into her embrace, and in that moment he understood the impossible. She cared as deeply about him as he did about her - and that was more than he could ever ask for; more than, in this strange land, he had ever hoped.


End file.
